London Fog
by catholicorprotestant
Summary: After destroying his family and hurting the people he loves, Arthur returns to London to reunite with his older sister. There he faces and battles the demons of his past. Human AU. Part of the FACE series. Takes place between the last chapter of WWIII and the epilogue.


**_Okay, this is part of my FACE series. It takes place between the end of WWIII when Francis leaves Arthur. Francis found letters that Erin sent over the years that were tossed in a box unopened due to the busy life they had. Erin is the eldest of the siblings. This is based off of a backstory and head canon that tumblr user erin-kirkland-the-emerald-isle/fanfiction accout Maddeline Kirkland-Bonnefoy sent to me [story id 10774687]. It matched up so well with what I already had that I decided to write this for her and for all my lovely readers. Erin is aph Ireland. Kristiana is fem!Norway._**

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><p>Arthur scanned the airport for that mop of curly red hair and green eyes that haunted his dreams since he was a child. He had ruined everything and he just needed to be comforted. He needed help to fix it. He felt tears filling his eyes, but he blinked them back. She would be here.<p>

He spotted her. She was standing at the terminal waiting area on her phone with a worried expression on her face. She brushed back her hair and shook her head. Arthur felt hope well inside his chest. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Tears poured down his face as he let his sobs escape. The sobs he'd held back in divorce court where Francis stood glaring at him with his lawyer, where Francis took everything from him that mattered. He deserved it, he reminded himself.

"Artie, love, what's botherin' ya? You just told me you were coming to London," the woman said softly hugged him tightly and stroking his hair that reminded her so much of sunshine.

"Mum, oh, Mum, I've ruined everything ! I hurt those I love the most. I ruined it all. I need you," he sobbed into the sweater of the sister who'd cared for him for his first two years of life before they were torn apart by an ocean..

"Sweetheart, let's get you home and put some food and tea in you," Erin smiled at him, brushing his hair away. "You've had such a long flight. You can tell me everything over tea."

"Okay," he sniffed following her outside. They purchased a ticket for the tube and waited at their platform. Erin held his hand tightly, occasionally rubbing his back. They rode in silence to her home.

As the rain misted down on them during their walk from the station the flat, Arthur let out a sigh. He'd missed the dreary coldness of his homeland. Francis and Alfred always complained about the weather here as Matthew sat quietly holding that bear Francis had gotten him in a small town outside of Paris. God...the thought of his family who now wished to have nothing to do with him crushed his heart. He wished he could take it all back. Maybe he deserved the miserable overcast skies of England and not the sunny, blue skies he'd enjoyed in America though he often felt it got a bit too bright to be healthy for ones eyes.

Erin opened the door and allowed him in. The warmth of the flat hugged him and pulled him it. He took off his wet coat and hung it up on the coat rack, placing the umbrella down on with the others and kicking off his shoes. He breathed in the smell of tea and gingerbread. He smiled at her.

"I remember that sent. You used to make gingerbread men during the winter months for the boys and me," he smiled.

"Aye. But let's not speak of the boys. They've long forgotten I exist. Come."

Erin led Arthur into the kitchen where a blonde woman was standing over pouring the tea into cups. She smiled at him.

"Oh it's been ages! Look at you! You're all grown up!" Kristiana, his sister's wife, cooed as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Yes, I have grown and aged a bit since you last saw me."

"The last time I saw you, you were still chasing after that French boy. Did anything ever become of that?"

The question cut through him like a knife. His mind filled with the memory of their touches and feeling of his lips against those soft pink ones. He remembered the smell of roses and cigarettes. The new wine only imported from France. Only the best would do. The curly, golden blonde hair that fell so perfectly in the man's beautiful face. The playful arguments they got into every morning of tea versus coffee. Arthur would always win when Francis pulled him and kissed him telling him they should know better than to argue when they were both so stubborn. The sound of his glinting French accented voice echoed in his ears along with the musical laughter. Those playful, sparkling blue eyes that laughed constantly. Oh god, he had been the one to fill those eyes with tears, to force them into death.

His knees buckled and he began to sob. Erin leaned down next to him and glanced up at her wife who shrugged and shook her head. She wrapped her arms around the brother young enough to be her own son, who she revered as her son. She gently rocked him as she sighed.

"Is this the reason you have returned to London?" Erin asked softly.

"Yes, oh god...Mum, I ruined everything!" he sobbed.

She helped him to his feet and led him to the table, sitting him firmly in a chair as he buried his face in his arms, sobbing. Kristiana placed tea on the table along with the gingerbread men. The blonde sat next to her wife and squeezed her hand reassuringly as Erin tried to soothe her baby.

After what felt like ages, the man sat up and shakily took the tea, bringing it to his lips surprising both women when he didn't spill a drop. _Never waste good tea!_ the familiar command rang in Erin's ears. Arthur put the cup and saucer back on the table and glanced up at Kristiana with a forced smile.

"We moved to America and got married. We adopted two beautiful twin boys who are perfect in every way. And I ruined everything. Thank you for the lovely tea," he said politely and sipped on it again.

"Ruined?" Erin narrowed her eyes. He'd been throwing the word around for weeks, but it wasn't until they had been filled in on the last eighteen years of his life that the words truly made sense. She curse herself for letting them lose contact when he moved to the new country. Had she not gone to Juilliard? Had she not lived in New York before she moved back to England with her wife? She could have kept in contact with him.

"I'd just…" He ran a hand through his hair. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Do you mind?"

"Not in the house. Never in the house," Erin muttered. She hated the habit he'd learned from that French boy he fancied so much.

"Oh. We quit, Francis and I, when we decided on having children. I'm afraid it's found it's way back to us both after the unfortunate turn of events." Arthur tapped the table with the lighter and sipped some more tea.

"Artie, what happened, love?" Erin took his hand in hers, rubbing the back with her thumb.

"Me. I happened. I...um...I felt that I wasn't good enough for my Francis. I felt as though he'd leave me at any moment, no he never cheated. He was just bloody French and everything about him screams romance and flirtation. He never meant it. I was jealous and I picked fights with him. I'd see the hurt on his face for two seconds before he started screaming back. And in that we made our kids feel invisible. It was my fault. We're both such proud men, but I had to yell at him for everything. We'd hear doors slam. Our children would pull us apart. I'd hurt the youngest, my baby, my Alfred, when he took me like that. Our Matthew couldn't take the screaming and would cry. They weren't normal children at all. Alfred took on this obsession with being perfect that I had forced on him. I drove my baby boy into an eating disorder and now he's on the verge of death in a treatment center and I'm not allowed to see him! I shouldn't be allowed. And Mattie, poor Mattie, I drove him to cutting. I blamed them. I had it in my head that those two were the reason that I'd fight with Francis. I told Matthew he didn't, that he was in the way, that nobody cared. I constantly nagged Alfred into being something completely not like himself. He used to laugh all the time, but he's being force fed. My Mattie's arms are a butcher shop. I shattered the heart of the man, the one person, I've always loved and could count on. I threw it all away and now I'm divorced and I'm not allowed to see the boys until they turn eighteen. They're sixteen now."

The room was silent for a long moment. There was no sound besides the rain outside hitting the window, the tick of the clock and the occasionally tinking of glass hitting glass as they drank their tea. Arthur let out shaking breaths and sniffled every now and then.

"Would you like to see them?" Arthur asked softly pulling his wallet from his pocket. He slid a family portrait toward Erin. "This one here, that's Matthew. The other boy is Alfred. They're about fourteen here. Of course you know that's Francis and me."

"They're lovely boys," Erin smiled.

"They look as if they could be your own if that sort of thing was possible," Kristiana agreed.

"I have their latest pictures.' Arthur slid more pictures and talked about his boys for an hour before getting up to smoke. He couldn't take it any longer.

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><p>And thus was Arthur's first day of a numbered amount of days in London with Erin and Kristiana. The familiar cloudy skies and misting rain. The smell of buses and cars in the streets. The warm tea and gingerbread men over which he'd poured is soul out as a Catholic would in Confession. The day sprinkled with stories of Alfred and Matthew.<p>

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><p><strong><em>Thank you for reading! Please leave a review <em>**

**_This may or may not get more written out, but I'm leaning more toward yes. It depends on how much motivation I have to continue though. _**


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